


The Spacephrack Drabbles

by Scruggzi



Series: The Thrilling Adventures of Doctor Space Phrack [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU Doctor - Freeform, Drabble Collection, F/M, Female Doctor (Doctor Who), Post-Season/Series AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: One of the things I love about Dr Who is the implication that there are a lot of off screen adventures going on between episodes. I thought it might be fun to add a little collection of drabbles for my Doctor, Jack and Phryne (and maybe a few other MFMM cast members, who knows) to serve a similar purpose.If there is a specific chronology with respect to the long fics in this series I'll mention it in the chapter notes although all of them will take place after The Catacombs of Rylia.





	The Spacephrack Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is also my contribution to July's trope challenge as I'm pretty sure adding the 48,000 word multi chapter I've been working on for six months was cheating! Clearly I've been taking notes from the Doctor!

Phryne and Jack slammed through the door from the mansion’s dilapidated ballroom and into a corridor. The place was dusty with neglect, ragged tapestries and the faded portraits of dead aristocrats hung from the walls; the dim glow of dawn was breaking through the dirty windows. The detectives put their shoulders to the door, bracing it closed, then spun around, looking for something to hold it shut.

Distant but getting closer, they could hear the battle cry of the Cybermen.

“DELETE. DELETE.”

Phryne uttered a short curse and brandished her all but useless pistol in front of her, before realising she was threatening a decorative suit of armour.

“Come on, Jack. Help me push this in front of the door.”

He nodded, still catching his breath. Phryne was panting heavily and her movements in her elaborate bustle dress and corset were far less graceful than usual. The complex layers of fabric kept catching on the metal rivets of the armour as she tried to heave it in front of the door.

“Phryne, wait!” he rasped, “if you have that thing over, they’ll know where to find us. We need to get away and find the Doctor, then get back to the TARDIS.”

“We can’t leave now, Jack. The Cybermen will take over the whole of London if we can’t stop them.”

“Well I don’t see what we can do about it. Bullets don’t seem to be much use.”

“The Doctor will find a way, Inspector. She always does.”

Jack grunted noncommittally, so far of course, this assertion had proved unequivocally correct, however he strongly suspected that this was more down to luck than judgement.

He moved forward and hefted the side of the armour furthest away from his partner, but the complex cage crinoline which made up the period appropriate undergarments she had insisted on wearing - for ‘verisimilitude’ apparently - were now irrevocably attached to the thing’s sword. The blade was hanging down between the suit’s legs, and had somehow managed to impale her skirt when she tried to move it.

“It’s no good. This dress is just going to have to come off.”

It was a practical decision but Phryne couldn’t resist the urge to smirk at him as she said it. Jack gave her an admonishing frown, offset by the amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Much as I enjoy watching you undress, Miss Fisher, this is hardly the time.”

“Jack, I’m stuck to this damn suit of armour, either I take this dress off, or Sir Cedric here will have to come with us.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack moved forward to assist her. The gown was beautiful, at least in theory, a gorgeous confection of red silk and ivory lace. It was not, in any way, practical.

“I have no idea how to get you out of this thing,” he admitted, more irritable than abashed.

“This is no time to be delicate, Jack. Rip it, or cut it open, we need to get out of here.”

As if to emphasise her point, the sound of the Cybermen came again, louder this time and accompanied by the solid tromp of metal feet on the mansion’s antique floorboards.

Shrugging slightly, and trying to supress a grin – the situation was serious after all – Jack gathered the fabric of Phryne’s skirt in his large hands and began to rip it carefully up to her waist. She hindered matters slightly by attempting to bend to reach her dagger, which was strapped to her garter under the steel hooped cage that provided support for the ludicrous bustle. Her movements were restricted by her corset and she almost topped onto him.

Jack made a heroic effort not to laugh at Phryne’s outraged expression as her clothing let her down so spectacularly. He imagined this must be the first time any garment had dared defy her this way.

“Next time,” she muttered through gritted teeth, “I’m wearing something I can run in and letting verisimilitude go hang.”

“Far be it from me to pass judgement on your outfit, Miss Fisher, but I feel that might be a wise decision.” He replied, poker faced.

Jack’s fingers ghosted over top of her thigh as he extracted her dagger from her garter, sending a delicious tingle over her skin. ‘Then again,’ Phryne thought, ‘as long as we manage to avoid being assimilated, this situation does have some advantages’. She considered pointing this out to Jack, but the Inspector was looking far too smug for his own good, and as she had no intention of providing him with additional ammunition, she kept the thought to herself.

Having freed her dagger, Jack lost no time in cutting through the lacing at the back of Phryne’s corset, she let out an audible breath as the tight restriction of stiff brocade and whalebone was lifted from her lungs. Jack couldn’t resist placing a soft kiss at the base of her neck, but did not allow himself to become unduly distracted. The sharp blade of the dagger made short work of the straps on Phryne’s crinoline, but couldn’t cut through the steel hoops of the cage, Jack was forced to reach in and pull the thing to pieces, slicing through the fabric supports until Phryne could finally escape.

The tattered remnants of the beautiful gown lay sprawled across the suit of armour like an attacking jellyfish, and Miss Fisher stood, free and unrepentant, in buckle shoes and camiknickers, immediately ready to take charge of the situation.

“Now, let’s find out what’s become of the Doctor.”

Her tone made it clear that this was not the time to tease her about what had just happened, and - tempting prospect as that was - the Cybermen seemed to have reached the bolted doors at the other end of the ballroom, so perhaps it could wait.

At that moment, a tapestry at the far end of the hall was ripped aside and the Doctor stumbled through it at full pelt, pulling up just short of a carved bust of a young Queen Victoria on a stone pedestal. Turning, she spotted the detectives and stopped.

“Honestly, I can’t take you two anywhere.” She raised her eyebrows and gave them an incredulous look, which was as understandable as it was unwarranted.

Glancing at Phryne, who was still standing, unabashed in her underwear, a hand on her hip, Jack closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had long since given up on the idea of trying to excuse the compromising situations they constantly found themselves in; it would only make matters worse. Besides, it was easier to believe that they were being chased through a ruined Tudor mansion, decades before his birth, pursued by an army of metal men, than to expect anyone to accept that Phryne’s state of _dishabille_ was in fact entirely innocent. Well, mostly innocent. This time at least.

Phryne looked rather like the Doctor had paid her a compliment, but she still narrowed her eyes at the Time Lady in suspicion.

“How on earth can you run in that gown, Doctor? You aren’t even out of breath.”

The Doctor had decided to join Phryne in her pursuit of period appropriate clothing; her gown was a deep, imperial purple, overlaid with black lace and complete with a bustle and corset.

She grinned, smugly. “I would have thought that was obvious, Alice, It’s bigger on the inside of course.”

“Doctor, that is _cheating_!”

The Doctor looked affronted.

“Of course, it’s cheating. I always cheat. How else do you imagine I always win? Now,” she waved her hand back towards the passage way she had burst out of, “I’ve set a timer, we have about two minutes to get back to the TARDIS before this place explodes.”

“In that case, ladies, may I suggest that this discussion of corsetry can wait?” Jack grumbled, poised on the knife edge between amusement, exasperation and abject terror that was the wallpaper of his life.

He reflected wryly that his adventures with Miss Fisher back in Melbourne had, in many ways, been excellent training for traveling with the Doctor.

“It’s not our fault the previous century gave women such restrictive choices when it came to clothing, Jack.” Phryne admonished him indignantly.

“True enough,” agreed the Doctor, “but I fear the man has a point.” She gave Phryne a sideways glance, full of the unparalleled thrill that defined the best parts of her wonderful, ridiculous existence.

“Run!” She shouted, sweeping her friends up in her wake as she sped down the corridor.

The Doctor had grabbed Phryne’s hand as she belted out her favourite command, and Phryne in turn grabbed Jack’s. Together they raced full pelt towards freedom, leaving Phryne’s erstwhile evening gown, still attempting to overthrow centuries of chivalry with the power of torn silk and Italian lace.

They made it to the TARDIS with less than 5 seconds to spare and were just taking off when the mansion exploded, taking the Cybermen, the suit of armour and the ridiculous bustle with it.


End file.
